My feet fall softly
On the carpet of dead leaves
Long forgotten memories
From summers past
Death's cliché of dirt
Fallen from grace
How many steps
Have I taken down this path?
I did not think to count
When first I stumbled here
I awoke. As if from a dream
Darkness all around me
Warm golden light
Dapples through the canopy
Until the dark closes in
And the blackness presses close
The steady passage of time
Marked between
There are no birds here
No insects or animals
The only sounds
Are the wind and my footfalls
Counting out the measure
Of a solitary march
There is a fog
Once thick and dark
That is gradually lifting
Each day as the sun filters through
More and more of its gentle warmth
Pushes through to warm my soul
I have no memory
Of when I started
I know where I came from
But not where I am going
Suddenly finding myself here
Off balance between then and what?
I measure my progress
Not in feet or footfalls
Not in days or miles
Nor in the aches in my exhausted frame
But in the warmth I feel
As the fog lifts from my soul
While I don't know where
This lonely path is leading
Or how long it will take me
To reach the end
I do know that you are waiting there
And that keeps me moving